Of Masters and Men
by DoctorDo
Summary: Of Masters and Men documents specific parts in the Master's (Headmasters, Targetmasters, Powermasters) lives before they came across the Transformers. Occurs during the Rebirth.


He heaved a great sigh, the third one that hour, and turned to his computer. For the fiftieth time that day, he checked his email for something, anything, just a brief glance at a case. He found nothing.

One of the greatest problems of living on a planet without conflict was that there were absolutely no ways for Avoy Duros to do his job the way he wanted to. Sure, he still got paid, but from the way he saw it, it was fool's money that got his family through life. When he was a child, his father had told him to help the world, not sit idly on his office chair attempting to file a report for a crime that never happened. Such was life on the planet Nebulos. Duros pushed away from his desk, stood, and left the room for a cup of coffee. The officers in the breakroom were just as bleary-eyed and bored as Duros was, but they kept face in case any "surprise inspections" were launched. These "inspections" were always executed by the Zarak Corporation, and if the officers didn't seem to be the peak of Nebulan professionalism, the men in black would normally take away their next paycheck and several of their most prized possessions for "safekeeping". The agents could find any excuse to do this, and beat anyone who resisted. In this case, "resisted" means making so much as an indignant squeak. These inspections were generally hated in the peace department.

Duros conversed with his colleagues, asked them how their weekend was, inquired about their families, that sort of thing. Friendly chatter. After he had exhausted all his possible topics, he returned to his office and put his feet up on his desk. It really was a decent day, and the sunlight reflecting off the Capitol building across the river sharply accented the stunning architecture. It was so awe-inspiring that Duros almost didn't realize his inbox light up with a case.

Twenty-four hours later, Duros was standing outside the Drainpipe Oil Refinery on the other side of Nebulos. Rumors of a drug trafficking operation had been brought to the attention of Charlok Moriarty, the head detective of the planet. He had been as bored as Duros, and both of them had jumped at the opportunity to solve a case. Of course, Duros had found the detective's name to be quite humorous and had let a snicker escape upon reading the message. Over the past year, it had become mandatory to catch up on Earth culture, as the first starship of Terran tourists was to be launched not two weeks from now. Duros had read the entire Sherlock Holmes series and enjoyed them. To find a detective that just happened to be named similarly was pretty funny.

Two completely opposite men were standing just inside the gates. One was short and red in the face, while the other was tall and pallid. While the taller one wore a trenchcoat, a wide-brimmed hat, and was smoking a pipe (he even looks like Holmes, Duros thought to himself,) the other was wearing a simple worker's outfit and was holding a communications device. Sherlock seemed to be around forty, while the other one looked to be in his late twenties.

"Hello, you must be Avoy Duros!" the taller one said cheerfully, extending his hand.

"Yes, that's me. And you're Charlok Moriarty?"

"The one and only. My partner here is Frakas Kalame. He's happy to see you too."

"Pleasure," Frakas said dryly without looking up. His voice was rough, scratchy, unpleasant, and rather felt like a razor blade digging itself into Duros's ear. Instinctively, Duros shook his head to remove the rasp.

"Who gave you the tip?" Duros inquired.

"Couldn't tell through the coughs and wheezing, and my phone's display just said 'Unknown Caller.' The area code was from this side of the planet, maybe coming from here. It's a very real possibility we're being set up." Moriarty said.

Duros grunted. "Maybe, but I'm not blowing this chance. Stay sharp." And with that, the trio entered the refinery.

The atrium was paneled in gold and mahogany, with multiple potted plants from hundreds of galaxies. A Reamian secretary in heavy makeup sat behind her desk and looked up as the three approached it. She looked Nebulan, but her pointed ears and high cheekbones gave her away.

"Hello. Do you have an appointment?" she said politely, but she was very tense. Under different circumstances, Duros might have thought the secretary was preparing to lunge for a gun, perhaps hidden beneath her desk, but he knew better. Reamian poison was notoriously painful, and they were quick. The secretary's polished red nails were undoubtedly concealing talons covered with the stuff.

Duros smiled and held up his badge. "We're from the Capitol. Just here for a routine check of the premises, make sure everything's up to code. Shouldn't take more than a few hours."

The secretary tilted her head to the side a few degrees. "Sir. By Business Act IX-XVII-MCMLXXXIV Paragraph 361, line 5, this facility is exempt from all inspections. You surely must mean to inspect the solar plant next door."

Charlok raised an eyebrow. "You memorized all that? Impressive."

"I'm sure Mr. Zarak will make an exception in this case," came the razor-blade drone of Kalame.

Both Charlok and Duros winced, but the secretary flashed a half-smile. "Of course, there is an exception. If Mr. Zarak agrees to it, you may search as you please."

"I've already notified him of our visit," Kalame screeched quietly, holding up his phone. "He says we may enter, with particular emphasis on the back mill. Apparently there's been a strange sound issuing from the machines for a while. We're to-"

"ENOUGH, Frakas!" Charlok cried, hands over his ears. Truly, the fingers-on-the-chalkboard sound of Frakas's voice had gotten to his trainer. Duros wondered how the two worked together all day. "We'll just see ourselves back. Thanks."

The back mill certainly had strange noises emanating from it, though they were hard to hear over the din. The mill was a cold, dark open-air field cluttered with machines clanking and whirring loudly, lit only by the fire plume pouring out of the chimney in the neighboring steel mill. It had started raining when the trio was inside, and now the rain came down in a torrential downpour which only added to the noise.

"It's going to be hard enough to verify this claim, and now we're in a flash flood!" Duros shouted to the detective. Or at least he thought it was the detective, the rain splattered Duros's glasses and made it difficult for him to see well. "I LOVE this job!"

Moriarty didn't respond. Maybe, however, he did, and the rain just drowned him out. In any case, a grating voice cleaved through the noise like a hot knife through butter. Unfortunately, said cleaving did nothing to reduce the sharp screech of Frakas's voice.

"I found something. You may want to see it. Just move towards the back of the field."

Duros shook his head again and did as Frakas had said. On the way he slipped in the oily mud (which ruined his favorite pants), cursed, and looked up only to see a cavern unmistakably open where there had previously been a wall. It looked like a huge, gaping maw and glowed an angry orange from the inside. Frakas stood next to it, his blue worker's outfit not even marred by the elements.

"How'd you get this open, Kalame?" Duros asked, then instantly regretted.

"Biometric security. I slipped in the mud, looked up and triggered it to open. Lucky, I guess."

"Fascinating," Charlok's much smoother and less abrasive voice came. Even though he must have been shouting, his tone sounded nothing more than a bemused whisper. It almost felt healing after Frakas's row. "To have built a secret entrance so large, there is no possible way that neither facility isn't aware this exists."

"Isn't it painfully obvious? Blofis's bought up both the steel mill and his oil refinery and joined them for his operation. Come on. I can't wait to give this idiot a piece of his own mind." And with that, Frakas charged into the inferno. Duros and Charlok were still trying to get the scrape out of their ears, but as soon as possible, they followed the understudy.

The passageway opened up into a huge room, almost an arena. It was sunken into the ground about five meters, with the main floor of the steel mill encompassed with temporary conveyor belts, each carrying drugs of all types, specifically customized for different species. Directly in front, there was a single steel door marked EXIT in about five universal languages.

That was up to proper code.

The same direction on the second floor's main feature was a giant furnace. An immaculately dressed man paced in front of it, but his face lit up when he saw Duros and Charlok. He stopped pacing.

"Finally, you're here. I thought I might have had to call Calanthe and have you brought here. . . but it's good you made it by yourselves. Hello, Avoy. What's shaking?"

The outdated phrase made Duros cringe, but he responded by pointing his only gun at the man. "Blofis 'Drainpipe' Zarak, I presume? You're under arrest for. . ." Duros looked around, counting. "Fifty counts of drug trafficking to offworlders and Nebulans, and misuse of taxpayer dollars, as long as we're here. I'm going to have to ask you to come along quietly."

"Yes! And don't try to run away, we happen to have an ally up there who'll be _more than willing_ to take you down. Right, Frakus mate?" Charlok shouted. Although Duros was wondering how Kalame had made it up on the platform before they came, he betrayed none of his surprise.

Zarak smirked. "Ally, huh? Odd. Last I checked, Kalame here was on my payroll. Isn't that right, Kalame? Or have you had a change of loyalty?"

Frakas blanched. "I would never dream of it, sir."

"Excellent! I'd bet none of you even guessed your 'friend' would sell you out, yeah? How does it feel? Do you feel . . . hurt? Betrayed?"

"Actually, that's not that big a burn," Charlok said, "because I knew he'd turn his back on us the second we set foot into this pit. Both Duros and Kalame said they'd slipped in the mud out there, which'd-obviously-cause their clothes to get mussed. Again, Duros's pants are pretty much ruined. Kalame's clothes look clean as the day he bought 'em. Also, biometric security doesn't open for just anyone, Kalame, you should know that. I really thought I'd taught you better. Not gonna lie, I'm a little disappointed in you."

Zarak blinked once, then laughed a short, barking laugh. "That's really the story you fed them? No wonder you're absolutely useless. No matter. Sure, you saw through Kalame's paper-thin story-who couldn't?-but your huge _triumph_ doesn't change the fact that you're still in the pit. Flanked by guns. With no. Way. Out."

Zarak retrieved a small remote from his suit's pocket and pressed a button, slamming the passageway shut. Machine turrets unfolded from the walls, trained on Duros and Moriarty.

"A lot of people higher up than me-including my cursed stepbrother-would like nothing more than to kill you and wipe out that pitiful rebellion you've started."

Rebellion? Surely he couldn't mean the Resistance? That wasn't a rebellion. It was just a group of citizens trying to make Nebulos a better place. They just discussed things.

"I gave my stepbrother utter control over Nebulos, and he stranded me here in return. It wasn't fun bankrupting the slums, believe me. The numbers played the devil's dance with our campaign. But I did it. He's President now. Nothing can stop us once you're dead. No one will have the courage to stand up to our regime, and Earth will become a Nebulan colony. Say goodbye, Duros. Your life just went down the-"

Duros interrupted by shooting Zarak twice. His first shot missed and hit Zarak's knee, sending out a spray of blood and bone fragments. Duros's second shot ricocheted off the furnace. He really needed to practice, but the end result was what he had hoped for. The remote skittered out of Zarak's hand as he fell and stopped just next to the floor's edge. Moriarty sprinted into action, leaping up onto the singular door's handle, using it as a stepping stone to jump up onto the second floor, and tossing the remote at Duros.

"I've got to confront Frakas! Stay here!" With that, the detective ran after his former protege.

Not much happened after that. Duros made it to the second floor with the remote and apprehended Blofis Zarak. Moriarty was gone for a while and Duros was almost going to search for him, but the detective came back much paler than normal without Kalame. He refused any conversation on the long ride back, and they parted without words.

"-and that's how I uncovered a plot to end this organization."

It was a week later, and Duros was telling his tale to the members of the Resistance. Moriarty was there, having joined shortly after the incident. The atmosphere, formerly chipper and upbeat, had turned grave and silent. Vital information though it was, it still came as a shock

These people seated in a circle were Duros's friends, forged together from their shared hatred of the government. From Halle Weiss to Tex Arcana, the Resistance covered a wide age demographic, but that didn't matter. Ever since Duros's son Galen had died, they had filled the hole in his heart. Now, they had to disband or die.

Duros wasn't sure which was worse.

"This may be the last meeting of the Resistance. You have all been . . . amazing. I hope you all find what you're looking for out there. Now, for the last time, everyone-"

They all recited the phrase "Let freedom ring" in unison, and were making to leave when a loud screeching filled the air. Duros was reminded unpleasantly of Frakas Kalame. The entire Resistance rushed to the window of the meeting place and looked to the stars. Two flaming ships, one purple and one red, were engaged in a deadly dance among laser fire. One landed only a few miles out, while the other crashed much farther away.

The Resistance members got in the vehicles they had taken to the meeting and peeled out toward the wreckage.


End file.
